What it takes
by SpazzyLassy105
Summary: ...may be a little bit more than what he has.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **

**Title: What it takes**

**Summary: What it takes...may be a little bit more than what he has.**

**Hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer is on my bio page. **

Gone. All of it was gone, wiped away from the earth as if some cosmic eraser had decided that the time for wizards was up. Well, except for one, obviously. Harry James Potter had always been the exception, and if he hadn't already payed for it dearly, he was now. He was slumped on the filthy, debris strewn ground of what had once been the magnificent Diagon Alley. Of course, Knockturn Alley was almost completely unscathed, standing tall in what seemed to be basking, evil glory.

The rather powerful _reducto _that Harry fired off at it might have destroyed the image of almighty-ness a little bit, though.

Just a little.

The now twenty year old boy-turned-man-turned-war-veteran (still too many Merlin-be-damned hyphens) watched in grim satisfaction as the filthy structure crumbled until it looked the same as everything around him; empty, desolate, completely and utterly broken.

He didn't want to get up, to stop mourning the loss of those he had loved (Ha! And wasn't that irony. Those he had loved had be stolen away by the very same thing; curse Dumbledore for spouting nonsense about the emotion. Love brought _death, _nothing more, nothing less) but Moody had ingrained his lessons maybe a little too much, and Harry was apparating and setting up wards before his muscles (so tired from swishing and flicking and killing Death Eaters with practiced, if not still painful, ease) could protest the movement.

He didn't get very far at all into his routine when the distinct _thwing _of the killing curse collided with the back of his head. Harry James Potter, recent savior of the Wizarding World (all eighteen people left of it; he had counted) crumpled to the ground; dead.

_So maybe Moody hadn't drilled those lessons into me very much at all._


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Heeeey, peoplez...sorry about the long wait. And for not updating my other stories in a while. Um, y'know, because I have a stupid muse. So. Here you go, second chapter of 'What it takes'.**

This was not fair. This was extremely-not-fair. He was supposed to be dead, man, _dead. _Having the big, glorious title of Master of Death led him to believe that he was _Master of Death, _not _Death's-plaything-of-whom-she-can-restrict-long-an d-peaceful-rest-for-no-good-reason. _This was not in the job description! Dealing with Death and her trickery and Slytherin-worthy cunning was so _not_ in the friggin' job description! If he dies, and is Master of Death, he should be able to choose whether he actually wants to stay dead (which, yes, he does) or if he wants to keep living, right?

No. Apparently, this is not so, because Fate and Death have somehow _banded together _and simultaneously jumped onto the Destroy-Harry-Potter's-Life(afterlife? This was going to get confusing, he just knew it) train.

They are doing a spectacular job. Because here he was, presumably in a completely different _dimension, _( and don't even try to _ask _how that is _possible,_ he is still trying to figure this little fact out himself, _thank-you-very-much-you-are-welcome_) staring up at the concerned face of a blond man. Who happened to be very...large. In a muscle-y sort of way. Who may or may not have made all of the blood in the surrounding parts of his body rush towards his cheeks in what must have been an amazing fireworks display of horribly red-painted and discolored skin before you could say 'lumos'.

Harry would admit to nothing.

But if he were to admit to anything, it would be that the thinner-built-and-mustache'd-but-still-stong-and-g ood-looking man behind Blondie had very much the same effect. As did the hulking (but somehow still concerned-looking) figure in the back. So maybe Harry was just a tad bit indecisive. Just a smidge. Harry peered closely at said hulking figure, squinting his eyes a little bit and tilting his head to the left just slightly (which was totally not a habit of his, shut up Hermione!) in an effort to understand what drew him to the meek man more than the others. It wasn't that he _liked_ the guy (while Harry could appreciate the male body, he was not looking for a relationship, no-thank-you-not-today-sir) but the way he held himself reminded Harry of...Remus? Yes, that was it. His professor did the same shoulder-hunch-don't-look-at-me-thing that this man here was doing.

In his contemplative state, Harry raised a hand and pointed to Not-Remus and said, in a quite clear and blunt tone of voice, "You remind me of flowers." Not-Remus blinked, looking rather confused. Harry continued on, either unaware or ignoring the general sense of 'what?' that had taken over the room, "Unless they die. When they die, they're not...not...um. _Um. _Crap. Ah, English, please, anyone? The word? That I'm searching for? In my head – the one that I can't seem to find because the Nargles have snatched it from me? Oh, but English please. I'd like to be reminded of the English version. I know the Swahili version. Just not the English one. Anymore. I used to know it. I'm sorry. Am I confusing you? I'm sorry."

Bruce glanced around the room before realizing that no-one was going to take the initiative with the man who obviously reminded everyone of Tony (when he got into a scatterbrained mood, at least). Steve was glancing around, whistling an innocent tune under his breath. Tony was far too busy peering at and analyzing the newcomer to actually respond to him. Clint was...somewhere in the room. Nobody really knew, but the Other Guy could sense him. Clint was not, obviously, helping the situation any, so Bruce sighed, took off his glasses tiredly, and murmured, "Um, yes, a little bit. Could you just say the Swahili version please?"

The man – still sprawled out on the floor in the unconscious state that they had found him in and seemingly in no hurry to move – scrunched up his nose, "...When flowers die, they're not kijani.*"

Bruce choked, Steve looked confused but stopped whistling because apparently this was important, Clint subtly stiffened in his corner, but it was Tony who surprised everyone.  
Tony paled then flushed then paled again – probably determining every outcome for this situation and freaking himself out - before sending a sharp, "Do you discriminate?" at the newcomer and subtly shifting himself in front of Bruce in case said newcomer answered _yes, I do, now face my ungodly power because I am yet another super villain who wants to rule the world _as people who fall from the sky generally do. The man on the ground defied all expectations and smiled up at him dazedly. "Depends. What would I be discriminating for, exactly?"

"Um, maybe, I don't know, Bruce transforming into a giant green rage monster when he's angry? Possibly. Just throwing out suggestions here, y'know? Guess and check, guess and check and all that." Tony rambled.

The Man Sitting On The Floor – who would be called TMSOTF until his name was figured out – gave him that dreamy smile again. "Nah, I had an uncle like that. Is Kijani gonna sit with us too? (because Tony had, at some point, joined the man on the floor and was conversing with him happily) And Blondie? And that Eagle perched in the corner too, maybe? Or are you a robin...? Wait, no, robins are too proud for you. Crow? Yeah, crow. Unassuming, in the shadows, mysterious." Harry suddenly turned very sad and mournful, leveling Clint (who was still in the corner and invisible to any other eyes in the room) with such a solemn look that the breath caught in his chest. "...The bird that is most often signifying death. And yet...And yet you stand by fire.* No fear at all in the face of the blaze."

Clint walked out of the corner of the room with an amused-but-wary glint in his eyes, offhandedly commenting, "Definitely a few sandwiches short of a picnic, but good senses and a keen eye for personality traits. Nice. And he called Steve Blondie – even better." He was about to say something else, but Harry's face (way, way too close for personal comfort) was suddenly filling his vision and a hand clasped around his wrist and he was seated before he even had time to react, plunking down with the others (who had all somehow been herded in a rough circle on the floor) slightly winded and not-so-slightly wide-eyed, "And _fast._"

The man shushed him and Clint dutifully fell silent. The green eyed man nodded happily, clapped his hands from where he himself was seated, and joyfully exclaimed, "Introductions! I...dramatic pause...am Harry Potter," he pointed to his right, "you?"

Tony grinned at the 'dramatic pause' bit and announced, "Tony Stark. Hi." Harry nodded "Wednesday." Tony looked around the room, silently asking if anyone understood this, and was rewarded by furrowed eyebrows and helpless shrugs. "Um, no. Tony. Tony Stark." Then he paused, chuckled, and muttered to himself, "Bond. James Bond."

Steve bounced happily, "I understood that reference, too!" Tony patted him on the back in a kind of 'good job' way. Harry visibly ignored anything and everything from Bond, James Bond onward and turned back to Tony, nodding again, "Yes. Wednesday." Tony cradled his head in his hands because this thought process of Harry's was so _muddled and twisty-turny _that he was having a difficult time understanding it, and instead of just going with the nickname like a normal person, he groaned, "Please explain this to me, Harry." Harry grinned, all chirpy-like in the face of Tony's despair, "Okay! So. You spew stuff. Like me. Just – y'know, in your head, out your mouth; doesn't matter if you're alone or people are ignoring you or if you're interrupting or if they're screaming at you to shut up. Got no turn-off switch...IT'S JUST LIKE WHOOO, SUNLIGHT EVERY DAY FROM YOUR WINDOWED ROOM AND NO _BLINDS. Soooo _I nicknamed you Word Dump. But that's too long. So I re-nicknamed you WD. But that's gonna get tongue-twisty real fast, so I re-re-nicknamed you Wed, and I realized that that was the short bus form of Wednesday, so now you're Wednesday."

Tony nodded in understanding. Everyone else stared in confused horror.

"What. Just. Happened."

Harry sucked in a deep breath, preparing himself and his lungs to go over it again, but Tony was pretty sure that he had broken his teammates already, so he explained for the raven-haired man. "Harry and I both have no content filter and can't shut up when we really, probably ought to. The windowed room thing was just an example – the room being our thoughts and the non-existence of blinds proving that we have no filter...actually, I think the way he worded that did the trick. He nicknamed me Word Dump on account of my lack – of – filter, then re-nicknamed me WD because Word Dump was too long. But he didn't want to actually pronounce both letters of WD because he was going to get tongue- twisted, so he shortened it to Wed. When he realized that that was the "short bus" term for Wednesday, he once again re-nicknamed me. Thus, my nickname is Wednesday."

There was a moment of stunned silence. Then, "...Oh my God. Tony can be patient!" There were over dramatic and exaggerated gasps all around the room. Even Harry turned to look at Tony with wide, disbelieving eyes before completely disregarding the information in the light of his short attention span and pointed at Bruce. "Go."

Bruce swallowed, "Um, hi, I'm Bruce. Banner. Bruce Banner." Harry smiled at him, "Kijani. And Not-Remus." The people around Harry blinked at the second nickname bug shrugged it away, figuring that they didn't want any more explanations. Tony wailed something about not being special in the background and Harry completely ignored him, pointing at Steve, who smiled, "Hey, I'm Steve Rogers." Harry grinned back at him, "Blondie and Joka.*" Steve pouted some more and Harry swung his finger towards Clint, who didn't even need prompting. "Clint Barton. Hey." Harry leveled him with that solemn look from before, "Crow and Kavu Kivuli*."

Bruce and Tony grinned. It was fitting.

**Hey. Just want to say, any translation errors are Google Translator's fault. Whatever. **

***Kijani means "green" in Swahili**

***Clint standing by fire is because of Natasha's red hair. Y'know, fire, red hair, connection there, anybody? Nyahahah, gimme a break, it's like 2 in the morning. I can't come up with witty crap right now.**

***Draco means Dragon in Latin, and Steve's blond hair reminds Harry of Draco. Joka is Swahili for dragon.**

***Kavu Kivuli means "Dry Shadow" in Swahili, on account for Clint's rather dry sense of humor.**


End file.
